


caught in a place

by ilgaksu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL DON'T, M/M, Sad Gladiator AU, does anyone know, how did this happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilgaksu/pseuds/ilgaksu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Rome; panem et circenses, humans as meat in the half-light, a trade in the giving over of flesh. This is Rome and, like most empires, you don’t get to get out alive. </p><p>The Sad Gladiator AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	caught in a place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lickerish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickerish/gifts).



In the days after, Bucky stares at the stone walls, squints in the glaring sunlight of the arena, thinks over and over about how it would be to bare his throat for the knife.

This is Rome; _panem et circenses,_ humans as meat in the half-light, a trade in the giving over of flesh. This is Rome and, like most empires, you don’t get to get out alive. 

Steve can’t see the brand on his skin anymore, but he still seems to sense where it is, somehow. He scratches it raw. Bucky sees him and tries to catch his hands; Steve senses the movement and flinches away. Bucky can’t look at him and Steve can’t look at him and it’s - 

"It itches," is all Steve says, then tilts his head up to catch the last of the fading daylight as though to drink it up. The scars around his eyes are fading, but the worst is done and done so it will not heal and they both know this.

Bucky watches the sunset gild blonde hair into something metallic and terrible; thinks of armour, thinks of wooden swords, thinks of revenge.

*

Here’s a story: James is Rome’s darling, the son of a Gaul warlord plucked out, picked out, given out to audiences with eyes hungrier than the lions they keep for their heretics. They give him a trident and a net, call him  _Retiarius,_ and send him out to fish. He learns the tang of blood in the back of his throat and plays to the crowds, smiles and smiles and plots against the whole sorry pack of them. 

Here’s another story: Steven is the slave of one of the city’s editors, producer of the games, brought in from one of the Britannia ships in chains and sold cheap and cheaper. James hears the price paid for him and his eyebrows raise:  _this one needs to be broken in_ , is what he hears. From the proud flash of the man’s eyes, James doesn’t doubt it.  You can see the indent of his spine, crooked through the cloth, and he hasn’t learnt to look at his master like he doesn’t loathe him yet. 

He’ll learn. They all do. This is Rome and you don’t get to get out alive. 

And how about this story: one day, James is limping back into his quarters after a fight, and Steven slips over to offer him wine. It tastes ripe and sticky on his lips and Steve watches him swallow and his eyes know something James doesn’t yet and - 

"Come along," his master calls to him, dragging him to heel like you would a dog, and Steve follows, but follows slow. 

* 

Bucky used to imagine Steve’s eyes on him as he fought and it made him sharper and it made him better and it made him put on a show. 

Now, Steve isn’t allowed within the arena and Bucky sits and looks at the stone walls and fixes his net and looks in it for holes, any way to slip out through the gaps.

But this is Rome. There isn’t any. 

*

Here’s the part they won’t tell you: James stops eating after, or at least tries, but they can’t afford to lose him and they’ve found his blood price. They’ve found his blood price, and it’s writ large in his eyes when they bring Steven back to the arena, even if Steve can’t see. James looks up halfway through slitting someone’s throat and sees gold through the spray of blood. His breath catches. They wouldn’t - and that’s his first mistake, to think they wouldn’t. Rome likes to rub in the salt. 

After the fight, James feels a shadow fall over him, looks up to see Steve there, looking into nothing. The scars are old now, but they still cut deep and fresh. The wine jug is cradled in his arms, and Steve seems to feel the drip of the wine as it leaks but can’t see how to adjust it to make it stop. James can sense the frustration in the clench of Steve’s shoulders. The wine blooms across cloth both exactly and nothing like blood. He can’t help because he can’t touch him and he can’t touch him because if he does they’ll die and James won’t die first.

"With my master’s compliments," Steve says, holding it out to James. The spilt wine glints off his hands. 

James remembers: wine-dark bruises over pale ribs, the taste of blood licked out of his mouth, _run away with me._

Over his shoulder, Steve’s master smiles and shows all his teeth. 


End file.
